Free The Rawhide Man by Diana Palmer Page A

her. “But you let it slip deliberately, honey,” he added with a glittering smile. “You saw my eyes on you and you liked it.”
    He caught both her nervous hands in one of his and locked them together over her waist, pressing her back in a sitting position against the pillows. The other hand went to the elasticized bodice, and his eyes were suddenly cruel. “If you want me to look at you, Bess, you don’t have to play teenage games. Just tell me.”
    As he spoke, he ripped the bodice down to her waist, baring her small, taut breasts to his hot eyes.
    He stared down at them as if he had every right, letting his eyes take in each line, each soft curve, each contrast of color from soft pink to mauve.
    The hand holding hers tightened as he studied her, and his face went curiously rigid, leaving only his eyes to express his churning emotions.
    Bess couldn’t move. His intent stare kept her still. He was looking at her in a way no man ever had before, and there was an expression in his eyes that puzzled, excited. Her breath came in unsteady gasps while sensation after sensation washed over her like flames.
    Finally, finally, his eyes wandered back up to hers, to read the wonder and faint embarrassment in them.
    “Yes, you do like it, don’t you?” he asked curtly. “Haven’t you ever been like this with a man?”
    She shook her head slowly, but words were beyond her.
    His eyebrows rose slightly. “Never?” he asked, as if that were incomprehensible.
    “As you, yourself, said…my blessings are small,” she said in a whisper, turning her face away.
    “Don’t,” he breathed. He freed her hands and drew her face back to his eyes. “Don’t. You’re exquisitely formed, as delicate as the inside of a seashell, pink and cream….” He caught his breath as he looked back down at her body, his eyes fiercely possessive. “My God, I’ve never seen anything so sweet as this!”
    He’d been drinking, of course, she told herself as she watched him. But he was making her feel things she’d never experienced, and she loved having his eyes on her. She wanted him to bend down and put his mouth there,
there.
    Her thoughts shocked her and she caught her breath.
    His eyes came back up to hold hers. “We’re married,” he reminded her quietly. “There’s no shame in this.”
    Her breath stopped in her throat. “Yes, I…I know,” she said.
    He reached out a gentle hand and touched her cheek, then eased his fingers into her hair. “You’re so young,” he said in the tenderest voice she’d ever heard him use. “So untouched by ugliness and pain. I should have had enough humanity left to keep you away from me.” He drew in an angry breath and stood up, standing rigidly with his back to her as he lit a cigarette.
    She lay there helpless, puzzled by words she didn’t understand. “Jude?” she asked softly.
    He turned, his eyes going helplessly to her soft bareness. They closed, almost painfully. “Oh, God, will you cover yourself up?” he asked under his breath as he turned away again. “I’ve had three neat whiskeys, Bess, and it’s been months since I’ve had a woman.”
    She tugged her bodice back in place with trembling hands. “And you don’t want me. You needn’t bother repeating it,” she said in a cool tone that hid her wounded pride.
    He actually laughed, but bitterly. “You might be surprised at the things I want, but I’m a realist these days. I know my own limitations.”
    “You, with limitations?” she scoffed, dragging the coverlet over herself. “How shocking.”
    He glanced back and then turned around, lifting the cigarette to his mouth as he studied her flushed face. He looked so masculine and sensuous that she wanted to climb out of the bed and throw herself at him. The way he’d looked at her body had been unspeakably beautiful, and she knew that despite the fact that he’d been drinking, she’d treasure the memory of this night forever. A kiss and then this…It was like having